It’s almost time, my little sweet potatoes.
The paper cups are full of poultry.
Anka has groomed himself to Great Aunt Gertrude’s standards.
Gator promises not to chomp into anyone’s leg like a drumstick.*
*Unless they bring up politics, discourage him from auditioning for The Golden Bachelor, or arrive without actual drumsticks.
All that’s missing … is you.
You are cordially invited to Thanksgiving with the Cats, your annual escape from stress, burdens, and whatever gnaws your heart at night.
We’ll gather as a family on Saturday 11/22, from 12 – 4pm, and you belong here with us.
But this is no ordinary family Thanksgiving. This is the Tabby’s Place family Thanksgiving.
Instead of standing around a kitchen island wondering what’s in the shrimp tartlets, you’ll be sitting on the floor with Bello, wondering if your host is a cat or a manatee. (Answer: he is both. He is also a distant descendant of King Olaf the Fat.)
There will be no soggy green beans and no questions about your relationship status.
There will only be smitten green eyes and answers: you are now in a committed relationship with 150 cats who collectively consider you kinfolk.
You do not need to buy a new outfit, because the cats are only impressed by fashions with the prefix “sweat” (as in sweatshirts, sweatpants, and sweatsocks, although they would like to see their first sweattuxedo, and they all agree you could totally pull that off).
You will not be expected to wash dishes, watch football, or pretend you like mushrooms. In fact, the one thing not allowed at Thanksgiving with the Cats is pretending.
But this is your family. You are safe to be honest.
You are safe to cram Berry with all the love in your jar. Wriggling like cranberry sauce and getting all jelly-joyous just because you’re near, he will never tell you that you are too much, or too little, or too into Star Wars or pickleball or whatever you love when you stop trying to be cool.
Berry is so top-heavy with happiness, he can’t stand upright, but he’ll scoot circles of celebration around you all day. He wants to hear everything. He wants to move into the inner room of your heart.
You are safe to regale Rori with stories too long for polite company. Other eyes may wander when you talk about that time an angel kept you from driving into a ditch, or that recurring dream about Theodore Roosevelt taking you out for pancakes. But Rori’s stump of a tail is a permanent thumbs-up, and she is enchanted by your attention.
You are safe to be precious with Prescott, who has never seen a face she does not love. Somewhere between surviving “injuries incompatible with life” and continuing to live, Prescott heard that family is supposed to mean forgiveness, and love is too large for conditions.
Prescott knows the world is not as it ought to be. Her limp tail and broken bladder are souvenirs of her sorrow. She knows you have your own unwanted artifacts, too. But Prescott presses on, and she will press her forehead into yours, because a better world is born every time this family gathers.
You are safe to lay your burdens at the feet of Peabody. You are urged to lay your entire person at the feet of Peabody.
He will gather you up in his joy, galloping around you. He is the little cousin who keeps your picture on his nightstand because you are always kind to him, even though you are so awesome.
He is also the uncle who sits at the stuffy adults’ table wearing a pink unicorn horn.
He can barely believe you are real, so he will smoosh every molecule of his Peabody body into you, just to make sure. (He may get some of the contents of his Peabody body onto you, but that will be OK, since we have already established you are wearing sweatgarments.)
You are safe to be yourself, all breathtaking and bewildering, because you are with family.
You are safe to be one soft animal among others, because you are with the Tabby’s Place family.
This is not to say you have no obligations at Thanksgiving with the Cats. You will be expected to receive kindness from two species without keeping track.
You will be expected to take a paper ketchup cup of turkey and spoon-feed it to one of your relatives.
You will be expected to leave with your heart several times larger than it was when you entered.
And when you go to Thanksgiving with the People in a few days, you will be expected to love them with the love you receive today.
You can do it, little sweet potatoes.
Your whole family believes in you.